


What They Needed (Diner, Part Two of Two)

by spuffyduds



Series: Diner [2]
Category: due South
Genre: 1000-3000 words, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-08
Updated: 2010-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-06 00:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds





	What They Needed (Diner, Part Two of Two)

Ray was surprised how hard it was to stand up, to leave the booth, even though he thought they were maybe headed for good things, tonight. He'd gotten used to the heat and pressure of Fraser's knees, so quickly, and now that he was standing up, and Fraser was standing up over _there_,_ away_, his legs were cold.

But they split the bill, and Fraser, like always, insisted on leaving a better tip than the kinda-cranky waitress really deserved, and then they were out on the sidewalk, headed back toward the station and the GTO. They were doing the usual bump-and-jostle, and somewhere in there Fraser actually threw in a _hip check_. _Ha_, that was new, Ray thought. And kind of fun, he thought, before thinking: also, I fell down.

"Shit," he said. His feet _never_ tangled up like that.

"I'm so sorry, Ray," Fraser said, giving him a hand up. "I was, ah, overexuberant."

"Nah, it's just—-the last few weeks catching up with me. I don't think I'm walking straight to start with."

Fraser took Ray's chin in his hand, firmly. Also new and fun. But then gave him a concerned look. "You are one sleepless night away from being _ill_, Ray," he said.

And Ray started to protest, started to say, no, I do not need to sleep _tonight_, everything is different and I want to PLAY. But his eyeballs ached and he was having to _think_ about walking, and yeah, he didn't want to maybe have a first time with Fraser on a night when he was so tired he was going to _suck_. Well, suck at sucking. Whatever.

Fraser actually suggested taking the wheel, and Ray said, "_Never_ been _that_ tired, Frase. But thanks." He tuned the radio to a thrashy station with a Pixies song going, bopped his head, managed to stay upright until they got to his place and up the stairs. But then he was _done_, actually _swaying_, and he mumbled "Sorry," but Fraser had his arm around his waist, sort of marching him to the bed. And then clothes were coming off—-his? whose?—-and there was a pillow and Ray was gone.

 

******************************************************************************

 

When he woke up the bedroom had really-late-morning, maybe-almost-lunchtime light, and he panicked for a second before he remembered it was his day off.

But not Fraser's day off. And Fraser was next to him. In the _bed_. Curled up against Ray's back.

"Hey," he said, really not wanting to but not wanting to get Frase in trouble either, "Hey, the Consulate."

"I called in sick," Fraser said into his hair.

"Oh. Wow."

Ray started to turn to face him, and then realized that he tasted and smelled like he'd been asleep for—-clocksquint—-ten hours. He scooted out of the bed instead, turned to look at Fraser, who was still curved around the empty Rayspace. Nice. Wearing those white boxers. Ray checked quickly—-yep, he was down to his boxer briefs. "Thanks for, uh—" what was he gonna say, tucking me in? "I will be right back. Really right back."

He brushed his teeth speedily and then jumped in the shower, soaped and shampooed like he was still listening to the Pixies. And the whole time he was thinking, dumbass, you're giving him a chance to _think_, when you get out he'll be dressed and edging toward the door, you should have jumped him no matter what you tasted like.

He towel-scrubbed his hair and wrapped the dampish towel around his waist, and opened the bathroom door.

Fraser had _not_ gotten more dressed. Had gotten less dressed. Which was not dressed at all. He was lying on top of the covers, looking at Ray, naked, and touching himself.

"Fruh?" Ray said. And Fraser looked away, bit his lip, looked _shy_, and how did he _do_ that? "I am all embarrassed, I can't look at you, and by the way, here is my dick. Which I am stroking." Jesus.

Ray made it over to the bed somehow. He dropped to his knees beside it, and just, god, buried his face in Fraser, kissed his stomach and chest over and over. Soft skin over his ribs, a little salty, good. Fraser was making mmmm and ah noises, and his arm was still moving. "Hey, hey, let _me_," Ray said, but he watched for a minute, just to see what Fraser _liked_. And Fraser was doing just the lightest touches, slow and feathery, _teasing_ himself. Waiting for Ray.

Ray could not possibly keep doing it like _that_. Not today. He took a deep shivery breath, pushed his damp towel off, and climbed in beside Fraser, nudging him over. He snugged one arm under Fraser's neck, pressed his own cock up against the side of Fraser's hip. (And had to stop there for a moment, thinking not yet, not yet.) He tasted Fraser's neck, ear, and then pulled their mouths together and kissed him for a long time, and that was very good, but it was even better when he finally grabbed Fraser's wrist, moved his hand away, took over. And he wasn't teasing, he was _serious_, and Fraser got noisy.

It didn't take long. Fraser's noises got louder and longer and almost _angry_-sounding, and then there was one that was small and surprised, and Fraser was coming all over Ray's hand.

Ray watched him, and grinned, because _he'd_ done that, made Fraser loud and happy, done something Fraser _needed_.

And now Ray needed, needed very much, he'd been rocking against Fraser's hip the whole time but that was getting less "mmm, nice," and more "oh god something must HAPPEN." He moved his sticky hand away, gently, threw it across Fraser's ribs and pulled him in tighter, rocked harder and faster and soon, soon was twitching hot all over his side, going "nnnrgh" into his neck. Yeah.

They lay there for a while, breathing slower, tangled together and drying sticky. But Ray was in no hurry to move, because Fraser was running fingers through his hair, kissing his forehead.

Finally, Fraser sighed, said, "We should probably shower."

"Or we might get stuck together permanently," Ray said, and bit his lip to keep from adding, _I wouldn't mind that._.

"I wouldn't actually mind that," Fraser said, softly. And Ray decided he was _never_ getting out of bed.

 

\--END--


End file.
